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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25700542">Getting Under Your Skin</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Domokoru/pseuds/Domokoru'>Domokoru</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Breast Sucking, Canon Compliant, College, Consensual Underage Sex, Delinquent Emmy, Don't Like Don't Read, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Father Figures, Femdom, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Heterosexual Sex, Light Bondage, Lingerie, Loss of Virginity, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Naked Female Clothed Male, Non-Consensual, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-con but the non-conner is a minor, Older Man/Younger Woman, Porn With Plot, Power Bottom, Professor Desmond, Sleep Sex, Somnophilia, Tagging as I go, Teacher-Student Relationship, Underage Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, emmy going from tsundere to yandere, no betas we die like men</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:21:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,033</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25700542</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Domokoru/pseuds/Domokoru</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Desmond is an adjunct professor at Gressenheller. Emmy's a student at the nearby all-girls school. Desmond offers to mentor her, but will it turn out as he hoped?</p><p>Canon-adjacent AU.</p><p>~~~~~~~</p><p>Spoilers for the entire second trilogy of the series.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Emmy Altava &amp; Desmond Sycamore, Emmy Altava &amp; Leon Bronev, Emmy Altava/Desmond Sycamore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Throwing Frisbees & Blowing Raspberries</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Explicit because this is gonna probably flip-flop between ratings... So yeah don't get invested if you don't like underage get off this train because that's our final stop. Choo-choo.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a warm spring day in London on the Gressenheller University campus. The park lawn behind the university was particularly popular on fair-weathered days like this. Desmond Sycamore particularly liked to take a break from his stuffy closet of an office by eating his lunch in the park underneath the oak trees. The young man had just begun a short contract as an adjunct professor at Gressenheller. Normally the university wouldn't allow temporary employment for professors, but Desmond was able to pull some strings with Dean Delmona. Being a recent summa cum laude alumnus had its perks.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>In other circumstances, the young man felt he would be content with going from grad school to immediately teaching at his alma mater. But, as Desmond had come to find in his youth, having a peaceful life was nigh impossible. Unbeknownst to the Dean, Desmond wanted a short contract that he would be able to break easily so that he could disappear before Hershel Layton enrolled. Though the older brother had chosen to study archeology through necessity, the younger brother had been naturally drawn to archeology since they were children. There was no doubt in Desmond's mind that Hershel was intending to apply to Gressenheller, being that GU had one of the top archeology programs in the country. Even if not for that, it wasn't safe for the bespectacled man to stay in one place for too long; he had learned that the hard way. Desmond looked down at his left hand, where his wedding band sat as a sad reminder of the fact. <em>Everything in good time, Dear. Rushing never saved the time that planning did.</em></p>
</div><div>
  <p>A smack in the back of his head with a plasticky <em>TUNK</em> snapped Desmond out of his thoughts. He turned around to see a small group of girls in the field several meters away from where he sat, and looked down to see a frisbee with some sort of cartoon printed on the top. One of the girls gestured in his direction and started to run over. She didn't need to get close for Desmond to know that the girls were from Gressenheller Preparatory Academy; the school lay opposite across the park from GU, and as such it wasn't unusual to see groups of girls donning stark brown uniforms. With Gressenheller Prep being an all-girls boarding school, it would be somewhat of an anomaly to see the park devoid of teenage girls. Even so, it was one thirty in the afternoon; Desmond had come to the park enough times that he had gotten a sense of the Academy's schedule through osmosis.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Hey mister, mind passing me back our frisbee?" The girl looked down at Desmond, who was sitting on the grass. He leaned over to pick up the disc and offered it to her. She had wavy hair tied messily into a ponytail, her chocolate-colored jacket was unbuttoned, her tartan skirt was hiked up so high it was almost revealing, and her knee socks bagged around her ankles. There was <em>no way</em> this girl was a model student.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Aren't you supposed to be in class right now?" Desmond asked as the teen reached to take the frisbee from his grasp. She yanked it out of his hands and clutched it to her chest with both hands, narrowing her eyes.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"What's it to you?" The polite demeanor of the brunette evaporated as she stared daggers into him from above. If the girl was going to disrespect her elders, than he'd respond with the same vitriol.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"'What's it to me'," Desmond stood up, crossing his arms, "is that your toy smacked me in the head. I know your lunch break is long over. Go back to class, young lady." The girl pursed her lips.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Why don't you try and make me, Poindexter? Maybe you just shouldn't've been sitting in the way of our frisbee!" She stuck her tongue out before turning to run off back to her friends, her loose ponytail fluttering behind her as she sped away. </p>
</div><div>
  <p><em>What an incorrigible brat.</em> Desmond was the type of person that could let one undesirable event spoil the rest of a perfectly decent day, but he took a deep breath. No use in letting a stupid kid ruin his mood. It's not like he'd have to run into her again anyway. He finished his lunch and headed back to his office for the rest of the day.</p>
</div><div>
  <hr/>
</div><div>
  <p>A couple of weeks had passed, and Desmond went to spend lunch in the park again, as he did every weekday. It had gotten considerably warmer, and the grass under him began losing its luscious green and started drying in the early summer heat. Desmond sat under his usual tree and pulled out an egg salad sandwich. As with every type of weather, the dry heat gave the park lawn a different aura. The scenery, people-watching, foliage was all different. Even the air smelled hot... Wait. No it didn't. It was the literal smell of something burning. Desmond paused, lowering his sandwich to get a better sniff of the air. A few seconds later, the scent of tobacco hit his nostrils. <em>Ugh.</em> Lunch would have to wait.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Even on breaks, Desmond was a university staff member, and as such he had to uphold the rules of the campus, indoors and outdoors. Smoking wasn't allowed in the park, especially when the grass was beginning to dry like this. The brunet followed the smell of smoke, weaving deeper into the oak trees past his usual spot. When he found the source of the stench, his heart sank. Not only was it a teenager from the nearby academy, but it was <em>that</em> teenager holding a cigarette near her lips. She whipped her head around at the sound of his footsteps rustling the dying grass. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Look," he started, "not only should you not do that, it's also illegal." Desmond stepped closer. "How old are you?" </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Fifteen," the girl answered pointedly.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Exactly. How did you even get that?" The girl rummaged in her jacket pocket with her other hand and pulled out several cigarettes, holding them in her fist like a bundle of pick-up sticks. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"A friend gave 'em to me." </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Well give them here. A young lady your age shouldn't be smoking." Desmond reached his hand out and she yanked her hand back.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You can't tell me what to do!" She spat. Desmond leaned back and folded his arms. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"All right then. Smoke that one in your hand, right now. Try it." He said coolly.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I-I was going to before you butted in!" The girl brought the cigarette shakily up to her lips. Whether the shaking was from anger or nerves, the man couldn't tell. He watched in silence as she inhaled. The young girl's cheeks puffed up and she immediately started hacking from the cigarette, smoke shooting out of her mouth. Her face turned red from coughing, her body trying to expel every bit of the offensive substance from her body. Tears began beading at the corners of her eyes.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Not so fun, now is it?" Desmond commented. He uncrossed his arms to reach out an open palm to her again. The teen glared daggers at him for a second before reaching into her pocket to grab the remaining cigarettes and shoving them into his hand. She intentionally didn't make eye contact as she did so. "Thank you." The professor took the cigarettes and put them into his pocket. Desmond felt that he should reprimand the girl, or at least report her to Gressenheller Prep. Though, he just couldn't do that in good conscious. <em>What if this were </em>my<em> daughter?</em> The bespectacled man thought sadly. It was obvious to him that there was something going on in the girl's life making her act out like this. Gressenheller Prep had strict requirements for enrollment; it wasn't the type of school to let anyone in, especially not a troublemaker like this one.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Is everything all right?" He asked, leaning down to be eye-to-eye with her. The girl gave no response as she stared at her feet. "What's your name?" Again, the brunette answered with silence. Desmond sighed. "Well, I'm not an expert on girls your age, but from my observations you seem troubled." He pulled a pen out of his breast pocket and rummaged around for paper. Not finding any proper paper on him, he unwrapped one of the cigarettes to use the wrapping as scratch paper. He scribbled something on the scrap and handed it to her. "I'm Professor Sycamore, at Gressenheller University over there." The man motioned with his head slightly, aiming towards the college. "If you ever need or want to talk to someone, just ask the receptionist there to point you towards my office. I'm usually in there." The girl kept her head down but looked up at him through her mess of hair, half of which came loose from her usual ponytail. "I know my offer seems strange," he paused, "but sometimes an outside perspective can be exactly the help you need to solve the puzzles blocking your way." The brunette blinked at him. "I have to get back now. Hang in there, all right?" Desmond turned to head back when he heard the faintest response behind him.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Mm." She mumbled affirmatively. Desmond gave her a small smile and headed back to his office. The girl was left standing in the trees, clutching the cigarette paper with dainty fingers. "Sycamore, huh." She muttered. Looking down at the note he had given her, she could make out the makings of an "Sy", but the rest was almost illegible. <em>His handwriting <strong>sucks.</strong></em></p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chicken Scratch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Emmy takes up the professor on his offer.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For the first time in what felt like forever, Emmy Altava had a holiday from school; a proper holiday, not just one she made for herself by playing hooky. The unfortunate thing about it was that it was a national holiday, meaning that anywhere interesting she'd normally want to visit was closed. </p><p><em>This sucks,</em> the girl thought, flopping back on her dorm bed. Usually, Emmy would hang around with her school friends, but because of the holiday they were all visiting home or staying with family. Emmy didn't have the same luxury. When she was very young, her mother passed away and her father followed a few years later. All she had now was her Uncle Leon. Well, he wasn't <em>technically</em> her uncle, but he couldn't bring herself to call him "father," and he absolutely <em>refused</em> to be called anything along the lines of "grandpa," so he became Uncle Leon. He wasn't horrible, but he was very busy with his work, always traveling. Emmy rarely got to see him. Sure, he tried to attend graduations, award ceremonies, sports championships... Things he could boast to his colleagues about. Beyond that, he was usually halfway across the world. Uncle Leon didn't particularly care for holidays or birthdays, so why should he even acknowledge something as trivial as a holiday from school? </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Emmy wracked her brain for something, <em>anything</em> to do. She rolled over, seeing that she was running low on snacks in the cupboard across from her, so she decided to take the bus downtown to do some shopping. At least some of the markets would be open that day. The holiday also meant that she didn't have to wear her uniform, which always gave her a rush of freedom. Gressenheller Prep's uniform was brown on brown, and when Uncle Leon bought her clothes, they would always be navy blue or black. <em>So dull!</em> Being on her own meant the girl could buy clothes in her favorite color, bright yellow. The sales clerks always tried to convince Emmy that yellow was a difficult color to pull off, but she always brushed it off. The color reminded her of happiness, sunshine, and lemonade, all things that made her grin. She decided to go simple with a yellow button-up and a green skirt, nothing too fancy. Grabbing her pochette, she headed out the door. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Stepping out of the academy courtyard and into the park lawn, Emmy noticed the bustling activity. It was a completely different crowd; the usual teenagers hanging around and the napping undergrads from GU were replaced by normal folks from the city who had come out to sunbathe and bask in the natural beauty of the park. The nearest bus stop was the one in front of the University, so she made a beeline through the park toward it. As she came closer, she saw the bus was already at the stop, doors beginning to shut. Emmy started to sprint and shouted, "Wait! <em>Stop!</em>" but it was too late. The bus zoomed away before the girl could make it. Breathing hard from the sudden exertion, she checked the schedule. To her dismay, the holiday schedule said the next bus was to come at 13:45; it was only noon. <em>Damn it.</em> She kicked the sign, but it didn't make her feel any better. The girl started stomping back to her dorm when the university caught her eye. Pausing, she rummaged through her pochette to find the scrap of paper. It had gotten crumpled in her bag, not doing any favors to the scribbles written on it. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Sy... Sy..." Emmy had forgotten the young professor's name. Then again, how many words in the English language could there be that started with "Sy"? There had to be someone in GU that knew who she was looking for. The brunette set her sights on finding him, because what else was there for her to do anyway? Plus, maybe he had snacks in his office. Emmy had been inside the university only a couple times before, for those annoying annual "tour the college" trips Gressenheller Prep forced them all to go on. The hustle and bustle from those tours was gone, and it was quiet enough that she could hear her own footsteps echo down the corridors. She began to search for a directory or map or <em>something</em> when a voice came from behind her.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Pardon me dear, can I help you find something?" Emmy spun around to see an older lady, her curly hair tied back with a cream headscarf. The lady was holding a mop. Emmy guessed she was cleaning staff, and she seemed friendly enough to ask for help.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Um, yes I'm looking for Professor..." The girl looked down at her scrappy note. "Professor... Synthpop?" She looked back at the cleaning lady for a reaction.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Who?" The maid seemed confused. <em>Guess that's not it.</em></p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Professor... Syllables? Does that ring a bell?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I'm afraid not, dear." The woman held her hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh. Emmy handed her the paper.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Maybe you can make out the name better than I can? I'm not sure what it says..." The older woman squinted at the note for a bit before bursting into laughter. "You could read it?" Emmy couldn't help but giggle with her.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Hardly, but I'd recognize that chicken scratch anywhere. You're looking for Professor <em>Sycamore,</em> dear. He's a good at what he does, but penmanship isn't his strong suit." The woman laughed again. "I tell you, if I had a tuppence for every time his notes caused the students and other staff grief, I'd retire right now!" Something about a professor who was a stickler for order having such terrible handwriting made Emmy snicker.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Can you please point me towards his office?" Emmy asked.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"It's going to be down that left hall, second on the right." She motioned toward the hallway with her mop.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Thank you, um..." Even though she seemed to be staff, the woman didn't have a name tag of any sort.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"The name's Rosa, dear." Rosa smiled.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Thank you so much, Rosa." Emmy thanked her before heading towards the hall. When she was out of view, Rosa snickered again.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I'm not going to let that boy forget 'Professor Syllables' as long as I live." Rosa chuckled to herself as she continued to clean the parlor.</p>
</div><div>
  <hr/>
</div><div>
  <p>With Rosa's help, Emmy found the professor's office easily. The door was only open a crack. She rapped her fist lightly against it.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"P-Professor?" Her knocking pushed the door open, so she stepped inside. <em>If he didn't want people coming in, he coulda locked the door,</em> she rationalized to herself. At first glance, the office seemed orderly enough, albeit small. Everything she'd expect was in there. Chairs, a desk, some kind of lab table, bookshelves, an electric kettle, everything in its place. Then she looked closer at the walls and realized it wasn't that the office was small; volumes and volumes of books were stacked up against the walls in towers so tall they reached the ceiling. Before looking closely, she thought it was some kind of brick pattern or wallpaper, but the odd pages sticking out between the tomes broke the illusion. <em>How has there not been an avalanche in here?</em> Emmy wondered. After examining the books and generally snooping, she spotted the man sleeping on a red couch. There was a mostly full cup of tea on the coffee table next to it, and papers scattered on the floor. <em>What an exhausting-looking job. I'd </em>never <em>want to be a teacher.</em> Exhausted as the professor looked, Emmy had entertained herself as much as she could before becoming bored again, so she went over and clapped as loudly as she possibly could next to his ear.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"WHA-AGH!?" The sound not only woke Desmond, but startled him so much that he fell off the couch, bumping the coffee table on the way down. He whipped his head around the room to see what was happening before looking up at the girl. "Wh... What did you do <em>that</em> for!?" He asked in pure confusion, still out of it from his nap.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I dunno." Emmy held back a giggle as sat on the couch. "I was bored." Dusting off his pants, he stood up and stretched his arms, yawning a bit.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I must say, this might be the first time I've seen you smile." Desmond said warmly. "It flatters you." The girl looked away bashfully. "Can I brew you some tea?" The man asked, walking towards his kettle. "I have several flavors."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Umm... Do you have lemon?" He nodded. "I'll have that, please." A few minutes later, when the tea was done, he placed her cup on the coffee table and walked to his desk chair with his. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"So, it's been a while." A couple of weeks had passed since their last encounter in the park. "What made you decide to come in today?" Desmond asked, taking a sip of his English breakfast tea. She tilted her head and thought for a moment.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Like I said, I was bored." Emmy sipped her lemon tea, appreciating that the professor had put some sugar in without her having to ask. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You're on holiday right now, yes? Don't you have friends to socialize with?" Emmy looked at her feet.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Yeah, but they all went to visit home." Desmond rested his chin on his hand, giving her silence to encourage her to continue. "I don't really have a home to go visit like they do..." The man smiled sadly at the girl across from him.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I come from a similar situation." Desmond looked into his cup as he swirled his tea. "I empathize completely." Every time he met up with the girl, he saw more of himself in her. "By the way, I still don't know your name."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Um, Emmy... E-Emmy Altava." She stammered.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Nice to finally meet you." Desmond chuckled. Emmy gulped down the lemon tea to distract herself from the strange situation she found herself in. Why did she come here? Why did he invite her?</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Why..." The teen paused, considering how to phrase her question. "Why d'you want to help me?" Desmond took another sip of tea.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I've been through turbulence in my life, in my youth as well." The man peered over his cup at her. "There was just something about you that reminded me of myself, and I didn't want you to make similar mistakes. Call it 'a father's instinct', perhaps." Emmy looked over, and for the first time noticed a silver band on his left ring finger.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You have a family?" She inquired. As the words left her lips, the girl could sense a deep shroud of sadness drape over the professor. The hand he used to hold his cup quivered a bit. She began to regret asking in the first place.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I... Used to." Desmond put his teacup down, freeing his right hand to rub his fingertips over his wedding band. "I... had a daughter." Desmond smiled sadly again. "Being the father to a little girl really changes a man. You begin to see everything differently. That's the other reason I wanted to help you." He looked back up to make eye contact with her again. "Obviously I'm not your father, but you're <em>somebody's</em> daughter. I couldn't ignore you in good conscious." Emmy's face had turned a bit red at all of this. "Haha, my apologies. I realize this probably all seems very, er, strange." Desmond stammered as he backpedaled. "W-what I'm <em>trying</em> to say is... I don't really have anywhere to go either, so I'm usually in this office. I can't promise I'll be very entertaining, but you're free to come visit whenever you like."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Emmy pursed her lips, looking around the office. She curled some stray hairs around her finger as she thought about his offer. <em>It looks as dusty and dull as any other room at the academy,</em> she observed to herself. But something about the man in front of her made her feel... Safe? The professor reminded her of Uncle Leon, in weird way. Maybe this <em>would</em> be a good change of scenery.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Okay... Sure," Emmy replied, "as long as you stock up on snacks." The professor laughed.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I think that can be arranged."</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>wow they finally know each others names. i promise eventually something will happen. (maybe)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Wants and Needs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Desmond has a proposition to combat Emmy's delinquency.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time Emmy came to visit, it was a weekday. She had cut class again, but didn't want to get caught on the academy grounds. As she opened the door to the professor's office, she slammed into him, knocking his teaching materials out of his hands.</p><p></p><div>
  <p></p>
  <div>
    <p>"O-Oh no! I'm sorry!" Emmy crouched down to help gather up the papers.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"It's all right." Desmond continued reorganizing his materials, not looking up to answer her. Once he had the papers in an adequate order, he tapped them on the ground to straighten them and stood back up. "But, I'm sorry to say that I need to get to my class. You can still stay in the office if you want. Feel free to help yourself to tea and biscuits. You can read any books that strike your fancy. Also, I have some puzzle books on my desk if you–"</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"Aren't you in a hurry!?" Emmy weaseled around him in the doorway and started pushing him from the back. "You need to get to class!" She stepped forward, physically encouraging the frazzled man to walk.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"All right, all right, I'm going!" Emmy watched Desmond shuffle down the hall with his pile of books and papers. The girl shut the door behind him, the wind from the open window making it slam a little louder than she had intended.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"Oops." Emmy examined the room for the aforementioned biscuits, eyeing them next to the kettle. It was one of those assortments that old ladies tended to buy solely to use the tin for sewing supplies afterward. "Well..." The girl eyed the selection, weighing the pros and cons of each type on her head. "He<em> did</em> say 'help yourself'..." She solved her dilemma by taking one of each, stacking them on her open palm as she walked over to the couch. The teen took her backpack off, plopped on the sofa, and started to munch her snacks. Emmy had last been here just a few days ago, and yet there was already a visible attempt at tidying the place. The thin layer of dust coating every surface was gone, there was no longer anything on the floor, and even the walls of stacked books looked a little bit more stable than last time. With that and the biscuits, she had to wonder. <em>Did he do all this... for me?</em> The girl snorted at her own ridiculous theory. <em>It was probably just Rosa.</em></p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>Finishing her biscuits, Emmy went over to examine the desk for the puzzle books the professor mentioned. There was a small assortment to pick from, some having a fair about of the puzzles already filled in with pen. Sudoku, kenken, nonograms... <em>Ick.</em> The girl hadn't heard of any of them before, but anything with numbers and boxes looked tedious. She decided to pick the one book without numbers on the front, something about "Lateral Thinking Puzzles." On the way back to the couch, Emmy put the kettle on to brew some tea, putting in some extra water in case the professor wanted any when he got back.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <hr/>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>About an hour had passed before Emmy heard the doorknob turn, the door slamming open a second later. The professor had returned with what seemed like even more papers and books than before, so much so that he had to kick the door open as not to drop them all. </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"Welcome back." Emmy checked the clock. "Short class?" Desmond placed the stack he was carrying on his desk as he replied.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"It's a summer class." The professor deduced by the lack of response that his statement meant nothing to her. "It's a condensed course, so the classes are shorter but the syllabus remains the same." </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"Ohhh." </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"So, what've you been up to?" Desmond asked. Emmy held up the puzzle book as a response. "Have you heard of those before? What do you think?"</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"I like them 'cause there's no math, but this book is kind of too easy." The girl answered bluntly. </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"That just means you're clever!" The professor laughed. Emmy's heart skipped a beat at the compliment.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"Nah..." Emmy countered bashfully. "I mean, the reason I came today was for help with homework..."</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"Well, my first piece of advice is that skipping your lessons won't help you improve." Desmond gave her a sly look.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p><em>Damn.</em> The teen had hoped he wouldn't notice the time and connect the dots. </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"At least you were in here and not running around with drug-peddling hooligans." The professor sighed and pushed his glasses up by the bridge. "Let me see your work." The girl rummaged through her backpack and fished out some wrinkled papers with torn edges displaying they had been ripped from a notebook. "Algebra II, huh." Desmond muttered. Emmy watched as he traced the equations with his fingers, checking the math in his head. He shook his head and handed it back to her. "All your work is correct, I don't know why you think you can't do it."</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"Hey. I said I needed <em>help</em>, not that I couldn't do it." Emmy snickered. "I need you to help me by doing the rest for me 'cause I don't want to." She crossed her arms behind her head and leaned back. The man sighed again.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"You're obviously intelligent, so what makes you dislike school so much?" Desmond looked into her eyes, crossing his arms. "You have potential... Why don't you apply it?" Emmy pouted and crossed her arms too, mimicking him.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"It's <em>stupid!</em>" Desmond stayed silent, encouraging her to continue. "And, and... The teachers think I'm a loser! They treat me like a criminal..."</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"Because you play hooky so often?"</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"<em>No!</em> Even if I didn't!" Emmy clenched her fists just thinking about it. "They just hate me for no reason." Her tone became somber, letting her arms unfold and drop to her sides. Desmond pulled his desk chair over and sat across from Emmy, so he could be at her eye level. </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"Tell me, what do you <em>like</em> doing? Do you have any hobbies?" Emmy looked back up at him.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"I like candy." Desmond held back a chuckle.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"That's not a hobby." Emmy looked taken aback, but thought to herself again.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"Umm... Oh! I like beating people up!" It was Desmond's turn to be shocked. "My uncle taught me how, like this! Hi-<em>yah!!!</em>" The girl jumped off the couch and kicked the empty air as she made a similar motion with her arms. Desmond let out his held breath in relief.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"Ah, martial arts?" </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"Yeah! It's fun, but," Emmy's energy drained away again, "it's not very fun by yourself." The professor gave her a sympathetic look. "Plus, the headmistresses get mad at me when I practice." The girl sat on the couch again with an annoyed huff.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p><em>That explains it.</em> Desmond could easily picture staff from the academy scolding Emmy for whaling on other students as "practice." The professor rested his chin on one hand, thinking for a moment.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"Emmy, have you heard of Abraham Maslow?" She shook her head. "He was a psychologist who made a pyramid depicting the average human's 'Hierarchy of Needs'." Emmy stared, confused but interested. "The bottom of the pyramid is composed of things we need to survive, like food and water." The girl nodded slowly. "As the pyramid goes up, it gets more complicated: safety, family, and freedom. And at the top? Self-actualization." Emmy continued to stare, starting to wonder where this anecdote was leading. "I think what you need," Desmond continued, "is something to help you realize your full potential; something to help you reach self-actualization. Martial arts is a good start, but you can't really practice it for now..." Emmy sneaked a sip of tea as she watched him think.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"I know. How about I show you some of the basics of archeology? Even if you don't end up loving the field, sometimes learning how people lived in the past can inspire how we should face the future." Desmond slowly got more excited as he talked through his suggestion. "This aligns with my current class too! During the final week, we're going to have a field trip to a dig site outside of the city." Emmy perked up at the mention of a field trip. Traveling sounded like it could be fun, even if it was just to dig up bones or whatever else archeologists did. Desmond noticed her interest. "I'd be happy to take you along, <em>if</em> you promise to stop skipping your classes."</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"Well... I dunno..." Emmy said in mock thoughtfulness. "Duh, of course! Yes!" </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>With Emmy pleasantly surprised at the opportunity to travel out of town and Desmond excited to introduce archaeology to a new student, the two found themselves looking forward to the weeks to come.</p>
  </div>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Exploration</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Desmond tries to help Emmy find a new hobby.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As the following weeks passed, Emmy had visited Desmond's office several times. He was proud of her for keeping her promise, as evidenced by the times she would drop by. Every time, the professor tried to introduce her to a new aspect of archeology that may spur her interest in a creative hobby. Unfortunately, nothing really seemed to be successful.</p><p></p><div class="a3s aXjCH">
  <p></p>
  <div>
    <p></p>
    <div>
      <p>During one visit, Desmond had shown her how to dust and polish pieces of broken pottery before reassembling them. Emmy had ended up not only gluing her fingers together with glue strong enough for glass and metal, but she also accidentally dropped the bowl she was working on, shattering it into more pieces than they originally started with. </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>"It's okay, reconstruction isn't meant for everyone." Desmond consoled her as he noticed angry tears budding at the corners of her eyes. She grabbed a fistful of biscuits from the tin and picked at them while she watched Desmond finish the vase he was working on. After finishing the biscuits, she left dejectedly.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <hr/>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>For the next visit, Desmond brought back out the pottery from the previous week. He had reconstructed the bowl after Emmy left to spare her feelings. The clay bowl was missing a few pieces, as many artifacts did, so the professor gave the girl a pencil and piece of paper to draw it.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>"Use what you can see from what we have, and try to fill in the rest. Even if it isn't a full piece, with some careful observation a skilled archeologist can create a close rendition." The bowl had a pattern of alternating squares on the part of the rim that was available, but besides that detail it seemed to be an average soup bowl. Emmy examined the bowl for a long time before putting her pencil to the paper, and even after that she paused many times to look back at the bowl. She began with confidence, but the more she drew, the more her face twisted into one of bitter disappointment. At last, she finished.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>"All done? Here's mine." Desmond held up his notebook, revealing a shaded, semi-realistic sketch of the bowl intact. It almost looked like it could pop off of the page. "May I see yours?" Emmy sighed and looked away as she handed him the paper. She had pressed her pencil so hard that when she made a mistake, erasing it did nothing. The parts that she drew on purpose were even sloppier; the bowl itself looked like a misshapen egg, and while she <em>had</em> drawn the square pattern on the rim all the way around, it was indecipherable as a pattern due to how uneven and wobbly it was. </p>
      <p>"Look at that! You got the pattern on the–"</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>"<em>Don't patronize me!</em>" Emmy yelled, snapping her pencil and chucking the pieces onto the ground. Realizing what she just did, she ran to grab her bag and left the office, slamming the door as she left. Desmond watched her leave, then looked down at the picture.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>
        <em>I suppose drawing's not meant for everyone either.</em>
      </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <hr/>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>The day of the field trip had arrived, and between Emmy's first visit and today, Desmond had tried a number of things to get her interested in a hobby to no avail. To make matters worse, every unsuccessful attempt chipped away at the teen's self-esteem, which already wasn't in great shape. Besides reconstruction and drawing, they had tried using microscopes, archiving data, map-making, geology, carbon-dating, <em>anything </em>that Desmond could think of, and they all fell flat.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>By the day of the field trip, Emmy's previous excitement had fizzled out. Her face was plastered with a slight but permanent scowl. Desmond tried to make conversation with her while on the bus, but her one-worded responses cut off every attempt. All the professor could do was feel bad, guilty that he couldn't do better and sympathetic towards Emmy. After about an hour and a half, the bus screeched to a halt in front of the site. The ruins of Sutnor Landa were still in mid-excavation, but it seemed to be the remnants of a small farming village from around the first century. The village was protected by tall rock walls, which gave an impression of the village being held in a bucket. Emmy, Desmond, and the rest of his class exited the bus, the students bustling with excitement. Emmy sat back as the professor explained the ruins, then started handing out tools and handing out grid assignments to the students. As the crowd around him had finally all left to begin their excavations, Desmond walked over to Emmy.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>"Can you assist me with something?" He dug through the bag of supplies he had brought and pulled out a Polaroid camera. It was black, an older model, and it had dents and scrapes from falling and smacking against rocks, indicating it had seen its fair share of dig sites. "Can you please document this trip? Photos of the ruins, of the students working, that sort of thing." Emmy held out a hand for the professor to give her the camera by its strap. She sighed. <em>He's probably just making me do this so I don't get in the way and ruin everything again.</em> The girl opened her mouth to comment, and as if he could read her mind, Desmond said, "Documenting the action is just as meaningful as the action itself. Photography is an important resource in this field, you know." Emmy snapped her mouth shut, still pouting a little.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>As the professor walked off to manage his class, Emmy was left standing there, alone with the camera. <em>Whatever. I'll probably just mess </em>this<em> up too.</em> She meandered around the ruins, looking for things to photograph. A bird on the wall, some excavated stairs that lead to what looked like a canal, and an interesting looking rock all found their way into her first handful of photos. Circling around the outside, she saw a tall rock that seemed climbable and scrambled up to take a photo of the ruins from above. After that, she decided to do the opposite, heading back to the entryway of the ruins and laying on her stomach to get a photo from as low as possible. Her mind slowly began to buzz with ideas for shots and angles: a close-up of a student's hands dusting a spearhead, another student's white shoes nearly black from the mud and grit, a photo of a group of students with the looming wall in the background... Emmy was on a roll until she noticed she had used up the last of the film, accidentally speeding through all of the spare packs the professor had given her. <em>Damn it</em>. She used the rest of the time flipping through her photographs, waving the ones that hadn't completely developed yet. </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>"Mm." Emmy muttered. None of these pictures looked like the ones she was used to seeing in the professor's books. She shuffled them like cards and sorted them to pass the time until everyone had finished excavating. <em>If I messed this up too, will he give up on me for good?</em></p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <hr/>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>Desmond declared the dig over at 14 o'clock because it became too unbearably hot and dusty to continue excavating. As everyone finished up and prepared to leave, he headed back to Emmy, sitting on a slab in the shade near the bus. </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>"So, how did the pictures turn out?" He smiled warmly. Emmy wordlessly jutted them at his hand, and he gently took them. Flipping through the carefully sorted photos, his eyes started to widen. </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>"I know, sorry." Emmy mumbled. Desmond shook his head.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>"Sorry for what?"</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>"Using all your film?" Emmy looked at him. "Or are you making that face because the photos are so bad?" She whimpered. Desmond laughed, taking her aback.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>"I couldn't care less if you used all my film. Emmy dear, these pictures are <em>phenomenal!</em>" Her eyes widened, mouth gaping a bit in shock. </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>"I thought you wouldn't like them, 'cause they don't look like the ones in your office..." Desmond squatted down to sit on the slab with her.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>"Emmy, archeologists need to be capable of many things, but there are very few who are true artists." The professor started laying the photos on his lap and pointing to them as he spoke. "The reason your pictures look different is because these are <em>good.</em> The average dig site photos are taken by bored old men who'd rather be digging with everyone else. They get the overall picture, sure, but you noticed the <em>details.</em>" Desmond picked up a picture of a lizard on the wall and the picture of the students with the wall in the background. "Anyone can take aerial shots of ruins for documentation, but <em>you</em> captured the feeling of <em>being</em> there." The man looked warmly at the photos again before putting them into his bag, and patted Emmy on the shoulder, making her flinch a bit in surprise. "I think you have a serious gift for this, an eye for photography." She snorted. "I'm serious! But the important question is, did you have fun?" Emmy wracked her brain, but she couldn't remember a single second of boredom since she felt the cool plastic of the camera in her hands. She nodded.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>"Yeah, I guess I did!" Emmy beamed at the professor, both from his praise and from the first truly fun experience she'd had in a very long time. Desmond grinned back before reaching back into his bag.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>"Here." The professor handed her several bills. "Go use this and buy some more film. I have to grade finals all of next week, so you should borrow the Polaroid and play around with it." Emmy was about to thank him when he added. "But, only on <em>one</em> condition," his voice taking on a mock serious tone, "you have to show me all of your pictures when you visit next." Emmy snorted and replied with a smile, trying to imitate his voice without bursting into relieved laughter.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>"I think that can be arranged!"</p>
    </div>
  </div>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. For Your Eyes Only</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Emmy tells him "Thank you."</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Emmy was having a blast, taking pictures of everything she passed, almost to the point of getting it confiscated by her teachers. Friends, flowers, her clothes, her room, empty classrooms, and downtown shops all adorned her small portfolio. Photography in and of itself was fun, but half of her excitement was impressing Professor Sycamore. She couldn't pinpoint exactly <em>why,</em> but this short break made her miss him. <em>I must just miss the free food.</em> The girl thought to herself, along with numerous other excuses. Though, the harder she denied her feelings throughout the day, the harder her heart thumped at night, when she remembered him patting her on the shoulder before she went to sleep. </p><p></p><div>
  <p></p>
  <div>
    <p>The day before the professor said he'd be finished with grading, Emmy went to the downtown stationery store to find an album to store all of her photos. She wanted it to look tidy and neat to impress Pr- <em>No.</em> She wanted it to look nice for <em>herself,</em> Emmy corrected internally. As the girl strolled down the street, a flash of red caught the corner of her eye. She turned to look at the display window, and her eyes grew wide. <em>The professor loves red!</em> Emmy had deduced that from his glasses, tie, couch, mug, and about half of the other things he had in his office. <em>This would make a great thank-you present.</em> A plan started to form in her mind, a ridiculous plan she didn't know how she could pull off. Even as her conscious convinced her otherwise, Emmy's legs moved on their own, walking into the store to buy the product on display.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <hr/>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>The day had finally come after an agonizingly long week. After running all her errands, Emmy's plan began to take shape. She could barely sleep the night before. Her last class of the day had just ended and she went back to her dorm to grab everything. Camera? Check. Album? Check. Present? Check. Emmy didn't want to waste time changing into her street clothes, so she left in her uniform, all but running to Gressenheller University.</p>
    <p>The door to the professor's office was open a crack as usual, so Emmy skipped in without knocking. She saw him in his usual spot, at his desk hunched over a book.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"Professor Sycamore, I brought my pictures!" Emmy rustled around in her bag for the album she bought. "Please tell me what you think!" She shoved the album into Desmond's chest as he swiveled his chair around to face her.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"Easy, easy!" He laughed. "I'm not going anywhere. Let's see here..." Emmy's heart began to flutter. Was it from the nerves of her first critique? Or the way he laughed? Or just from seeing his face again after a week of absence? "I think," Desmond handed the album back to her, "these are beautiful, Emmy." The girl beamed as she took the photo album into her arms, her ears burning red as she heard him say "beautiful" and "Emmy" in the same sentence. There was no use in denying it any longer; she had fallen, <em>completely.</em></p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"Thank you so much!" Emmy thought a bit about how to phrase her next question. "Um... Would you mind posing for a picture? I-I think I want to try collaging with my pictures..." Desmond titled his head to the side for a second but ultimately agreed. </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>
      <em>Anything to support her creativity, I suppose.</em>
    </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"Sure. What do you need me to do?"</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"W-Where you are right now is just fine!" Emmy noticed a flash of suspicion in his eyes. "I'm sorry. I know this is weird." He shook his head, sitting up straight.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"It's all right. Like this?" Desmond asked.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"Hmm..." Emmy murmured, pretending to be deep in thought. "Professor, I really need you to be in a specific pose and to not move at all while I take this, but you're shaking a little." She pulled out thick, violet ribbons she'd bought from the stationery store from her bag and began unwinding them. "Is it okay if I keep your hands and legs in place? What I really need is the pose, and if you move it gets all blurry." Desmond hesitated, but again, he agreed. </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"I'd like to see what ever this turns into," the professor said as Emmy bound his wrists to the armrests, "I'm very curious." </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"Of course." Emmy replied quietly, moving down to tie his ankles together. "I've never done this kind of thing before," she pulled the knot tight, "but I hope you'll enjoy it when I'm through." She raised back up to admire her handiwork. "Perfect!" The girl rummaged for the camera and began taking pictures of the bound professor from multiple angles.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"D-Did you get what you needed?" Desmond asked, trying to shift in his chair.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"Hmm? Oh yeah, the pictures turned out great." Emmy nonchalantly put the black Polaroid down without even looking at the photographs and walked over to the open door, pulling it closed and locking the deadbolt. The professor could only watch in confusion as the girl then went over to the window, pulling the blinds down.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"Emmy, what are you...?" Desmond trailed off as the girl came back to stand in front of him, eyes half-lidded. The afternoon light leaking in through the blinds striped down both of their bodies as they looked at each other in silence.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"...I wanna thank you for everything you've done for me." Emmy whispered, moving closer to his face. "You're the only one who's ever cared," she climbed onto his lap, wrapping her legs around the back of the chair, "the only one who's ever made me feel this way." Desmond froze, eyes wide. <em>She couldn't mean...</em></p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"I love you, Professor Sycamore." Emmy moaned, pressing her lips into his. Desmond turned his head away and clamped his mouth shut. Emmy looked hurt. "What's wrong?" She asked quietly.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"'What's wrong?' W-We're a teacher and student! You're a <em>child!</em>" Emmy bristled at the word.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"I am <em>not</em> a <em>kid!</em>" She asserted. "Girls go through puberty faster. I learned that in health class. I'm practically already an adult!" Emmy scooted her body closer, pressing her front against his.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"N-No, you're not!" Desmond stammered. "Why is this happening?" He whispered to himself. "It was never supposed to be like this..." </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"Be like what?" The teen leaned in close to his left ear. "Don't you want this too?" She breathed.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"<em>No!</em>" The professor accentuated his response by pulling against his binds. "I told you I see you as... a daughter!" The man tried to move his head as far away as possible, but the chair blocked every attempt. Emmy gave him a sickly sweet smile.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"I know that's how it <em>was,</em> but I need <em>more</em> now, Professor." She pulled his head to face hers. "I want <em>all</em> of your love." Emmy tried to kiss him again, only to be met with the same gritted teeth. She frowned and pinched his nose shut, slamming her open mouth onto his when he gasped for air.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"Mngh, mnogh!" Desmond's protests were muffled as Emmy kissed him clumsily.  Emmy's teeth clacked against his as she shoved her tongue into his mouth and tried to suck on his. She had no experience at any of this; all she had to go on was lust and adrenaline. She could taste his daily cup of English breakfast and she couldn't get enough. Pulling back away to breathe, a thin strand of drool connected their lips for a brief moment before breaking. She wiped the slobber off with the sleeve of her uniform.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"Professor... I like... kissing you..." Emmy whispered into his ear before traveling down to nip on his earlobe, lowering even still to pepper hickeys on his jawline. </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"Don't... People will see those..." Desmond pleaded. He was doing everything he could to refuse the girl's advances, purposefully not reciprocating anything she tried. Unfortunately, he was tied to a chair with no way to escape. Any attempt to stop her was useless. </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p><em>Then let them see! </em>The request only made Emmy suck harder as she pressed her face into the crook of his neck. She could smell his cologne: it was sweet and rich like dessert, and it mixed wonderfully with the scent of his skin. Emmy breathed it in deeply and sighed in dizzying pleasure, nuzzling even harder into the professor's neck. She wrapped her arms behind his head, clinging to him as closely as she could. Even staying like this would be enough for her, but Emmy wasn't about to let her present go to waste. </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"Hey. I bought this for you." Emmy scooted off Desmond's lap to begin tearing off her uniform, revealing a set of red lingerie underneath. The bra and panty set was a vivid scarlet hue, faintly see-though with a weaving lace pattern of flower petals and stems. "I thought of you when I saw it... Reminded me of your glasses. I'm lucky they even sold it to me... Must be because I'm so <em>grown-up.</em>" She smirked. Desmond had long looked away, only stealing a glance before immediately turning back away and squeezing his eyes shut. Emmy's smile sank again. "Why won't you look at me, Professor?" She sat back on his lap, scooting back in place to lay her head in the crook of his neck. "Am I that ugly?" The man felt a teardrop hit his skin.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"T-That's not..." Desmond sputtered.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"So I <em>am</em> pretty?" Emmy blinked doe-eyed up at him. Desmond sighed, trying to figure out a way to spare her feelings without encouraging this behavior any further.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>"You're a beautiful young lady," Desmond winced as he felt her tremble on his lap at the words, "but this isn't right." He looked into her eyes sympathetically. "If you knew this was okay, you wouldn't have needed to tie me up." </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>Emmy looked down. Of course she knew. The rational part of her brain knew this wasn't normal, and she restrained him specifically because she'd expected the professor to take the moral high ground. In fact, that was probably one of the reasons she fell for him. Her eyes welled with tears of both frustration and disappointment. Why had she ever expected anything to come of this? All the girl could do was cry into his shoulder, clinging to his back. Without turning around, Emmy reached behind her and pulled one ribbon loose, freeing Desmond's left hand. She guided his hand behind her and he obliged, rubbing her back as she stained his shirt with her tears. After several minutes, the professor asked quietly.</p>
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    <p>"Emmy... Can we move over to the sofa, maybe?" The girl gave no indication that he heard him, but eventually rose off of him and untied his other arm and ankles. She grabbed her uniform off the floor and lumbered over to the couch, bringing her feet up to rest her arms on her knees, pressing her face into them. Desmond stretched a bit, easing out the tension of sitting in one position for so long, before he came over to join her. "There. Isn't this much more comfortable?" He continued rubbing her back. "Do you want me to brew you some tea? I bought more biscuits as well."</p>
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    <p>"<em>No!</em>" Emmy leaned over to grab the professor from this side. "Don't go!" She hugged him tight so he couldn't get up.</p>
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    <p>"All right, all right." Desmond chuckled softly. He leaned back and let her cling to him as long as she needed to. Emmy cried and cried, no longer about this rejection, but <em>every</em> rejection in her life. With every visit to this office, her emotional walls had been breaking down without her realizing it. The girl let out years of repressed tears as the sun outside began to set, turning the room a melancholic shade of orange.</p>
    <p>After a long stretch of silence, Emmy pulled back a little, her words slightly garbled.</p>
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    <p>"Whaddabout... When I'm older?"</p>
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    <p>"Emmy..." Desmond sighed.</p>
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    <p>"I... I-I can be your assistant! I can take pictures and brew tea and stuff!"</p>
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    <p>"Emmy."</p>
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    <p>"Just let me stay with you, I'll do anything!"</p>
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    <p>"<em>Emmy!</em>" Desmond flinched at seeing Emmy's shocked expression. He hadn't mean to shout. "Emmy..." He softened his tone, "I don't doubt that you'd be a wonderful assistant, but you do not want to waste your life on me. Trust me." </p>
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    <p>"...Yes I do." Emmy whimpered quietly without making eye contact. Desmond pretended not to hear her.</p>
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    <p>"It's getting late... You should head back." The girl shook her head, frowning. "You want to spend the night here? On an old couch instead of your comfortable bed?" She nodded, still frowning. Desmond gave her a half smile. "I know there's no convincing you when your mind is set. Let me get you a blanket." He got up to take a blanket out from a shelf, handing it to her before going back to his desk chair. She titled her head.</p>
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    <p>"There's space on the couch..." The professor gave her a suspicious look. Emmy rolled her eyes dramatically and snorted. "I can scoot over to one side, okay!? Geez." She bundled into the blanket and curled into a ball on one side of the sofa. Desmond really didn't want to sleep in his chair, so he took her up on the offer, mimicking her by curling up on the other end of the couch. <em>Does he really live in this office? Or is he staying here for me...?</em> was the last thought in Emmy's mind before she drifted off to sleep.</p>
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    <p>Emmy woke up thirsty in the middle of the night. She rubbed her eyes, smacked her dry lips, and squinted at the clock on the wall. <em>2:47.</em> The room was illuminated only by an emergency light, flickering in the corner of the ceiling. The girl yawned and walked over to the counter where the professor kept the tea, and chugged a glass of lukewarm water. Thirst quenched, Emmy walked back to her arm of the sofa. Though it was summer, she didn't want to be out of the warmth of the blanket for too long. The cold air on her skin reminded her she was only wearing lingerie, and her face flushed hot with embarrassment as she covered her shame with the blanket.</p>
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    <p>Before laying back down, Emmy looked across the couch to see the professor. He looked the same as the first day she came to visit; his head rested on the arm of the couch, one arm bent behind his head, the other drooping off the edge of the sofa. He'd forgotten to take his glasses off again, and they'd shifted as he moved in his sleep, laying crooked on his face. The man's breaths escaped in small, rhythmic puffs, indicating he was indeed asleep. Though, one thing was different this time. When she noticed, Emmy gasped and covered her mouth before she could make a sound.</p>
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      <em>No way...</em>
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    <p>In the dim light of the room, she could make out a tent in the professor's pants. She'd heard about morning wood from movies and books, but she'd never witnessed it in person. Well, to be fair, she had never witnessed <em>any</em> penises in person.</p>
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    <p>"Professor Sycamore?" Emmy whispered, checking to see if he was awake. Only the continuation of his deep, steady breathing could be heard in response. It was as if Emmy's chance to have her way with him was being presented to her on a silver platter, and, despite her common sense, she just couldn't resist the opportunity. Her eyes had long since adjusted to the darkness, but Emmy still could've done with a little more light. She slowly felt around his crotch to find the zipper, heart racing. <em>Am I really going to do this? What if he wakes up?</em></p>
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    <p><em>Ziiip.</em> Her hands had made the decision for her. The professor's member sprang out of his pants, but there was still one defensive layer of fabric left. Checking the man hadn't woken up every time she moved, Emmy delicately worked the man's dick out of his briefs with her fingers. Her heart was beating out of her chest and she could feel its thudding reverberate nearly everywhere on her body. She gasped as it popped out.</p>
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    <p>Freed from the confines of his underwear, it was deep in color with the occasional vein on the side, twitching randomly all the while. Honestly, it looked grotesque to Emmy, but knowing who it belonged to made every visual aspect immediately inconsequential. Her hand shook as she moved it to touch him, checking even more frequently to make sure the sound of her heart pounding and shaky breath still wasn't waking up the professor. She poked it. It swayed back and forth. She poked it again. It swayed again. </p>
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    <p><em>Okay. What now?</em> Thinking back to videos she'd seen, Emmy figured sucking it was the next course of action, right? Getting close, she could almost feel the heat emanating off of him. She licked a stripe up one side from the base to the head. He tasted salty, like skin and sweat with a hint of musk. It was considerably less nasty than Emmy had expected, so it was simple work for her to start mouthing the head. She figured the wetter she got it, the easier it would be for her later. Unfortunately, she could only comfortably fit half of it into her mouth. It turned out to be bigger and <em>thicker</em> than she thought. Emmy awkwardly tried to work her tongue around it in her mouth when her ears perked up.</p>
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    <p>"Mhn..." Desmond let out a soft moan. </p>
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    <p><em>Did he wake up?</em> Emmy paused, the man's cock still in her mouth as she observed in silence. He obviously hadn't woken up, luckily for Emmy as his quiet moan only made her want more. As she continued to lick, he whined again. She tried more intently to suck the way that people did in those video tapes, shifting between techniques until she heard the professor groan in his sleep. The girl was grateful to have the member in her mouth to restrain her; every time the professor let out a sweet little noise, it made her want to moan too. All she could do was drool more, thoroughly coating the top half of his dick with saliva. When she was satisfied by her work, she freed it from her lips with a wet <em>pop.</em> It glistened in the faint light of the office, imploring her to go all the way.</p>
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    <p>For her first plan, Emmy <em>had</em> brought condoms, but she didn't want to risk waking up the professor by trying to put one on for the first time. She dismissed the idea; she'd been on the pill for a couple of years already now, and that was enough protection for her. Wriggling completely out of the blanket she'd curled herself up in, she unhooked her bra and pushed her panties down to her ankles. Kicking them off the couch, she noticed the Polaroid camera sitting on the coffee table. Another plot began to form in her head, and the girl grinned devilishly. Though it was an older model, the camera still had flash and timer settings. Emmy decided to document the evening, at best to remember her first time and at worst to use as blackmail material. </p>
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    <p><em>Click. Vrrr.</em> A selfie with his cock in her mouth. <em>Click. Vrrr.</em> A portrait of her pretending to kiss his sleeping face. <em>Click. Vrrr.</em> A photo of her laying naked next to him. Finally, it was time for the pièce de résistance. Emmy set the timer to its max setting and positioned it in the perfect spot to capture both herself and the professor as she sat on his lap. <em>Good,</em> she could still hear the timer ticking down. She balanced herself into a squat and hovered over the professor's cock. <em>Tick, tick, tick.</em> Emmy took a deep breath before quickly slamming herself onto his length, biting her lips shut to stay quiet. <em>Click. Vrrr.</em> Just as planned, she'd captured her last seconds as a virgin on a Polaroid photograph. </p>
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    <p>Emmy sank down and just sat for a bit, adjusting to the foreign body inside her. She trembled as she struggled to stay quiet. This was <em>completely</em> different than her fingers, or even her old hairbrush. She could feel the heat inside of her, and every twitch a pleasant reminder that she was connecting with a person... a person she loved. Emmy had always heard horror stories of girls bleeding their first time. It was a bit tight, but she didn't feel any tearing. Breathing in again, she raised her hips up and brought them back down as softly as she could as to not wake the man below her. Up, breathe, down, breathe. The girl went slowly until she found a pleasurable pace. <em>God</em> did it feel big. Every time she went back down she swore she could feel his member grinding against her womb and bulging out her tummy, but she shrugged it off as her overactive imagination. </p>
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    <p>Emmy held onto the back of the couch to stabilize herself, looking down to see the professor's sleeping face. His eyes were darting under his eyelids, and he scrunched up his face the slightest bit every now and then. <em>I wonder what he's dreaming about...</em> Emmy hoped he was dreaming about her. The girl started to rub her clit and move faster, still careful not to smack back down too roughly. It felt good; his dick was hitting all the right spots and she felt completely stuffed to the brim with him, but something was missing. Emmy wished he was awake to touch her, to hold her, to rub her head, to hold her hand, to kiss her. She wanted to hear him call her a good girl and shower her with praise. She wanted to see the warmth and kindness in his eyes in the faint florescent light across from her. A lone tear rolled down her cheek.</p>
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    <p>The professor started to shake underneath her, muttering and moaning in his sleep again. Emmy shuddered. The man had no right to sound so sexy when he wasn't even speaking proper English. Heat began to build in her stomach and she could feel every part of her body tense up. She let go of the couch and leaned forward, inches away from his face. God she wanted to kiss him, but she didn't dare. What would be the point anyway if he didn't reciprocate? Emmy opted to huff the cologne on his neck as she used the new angle to aim his cock into the sensitive bundle of nerves inside her. Both the professor's face and her climax were so close, she could almost taste them. She held herself up on shaky arms above him as she came, clenching her jaw and holding her breath. After catching her breath, Emmy grabbed the back of the couch to pull herself up. As she moved back up, the professor's cock slipped out of her, followed by oozing drips of cum. She smirked at the sight. <em>He came inside his own student.</em></p>
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    <p>Emmy stumbled off the couch, stepping awkwardly like a newborn fawn to reach for the Polaroid and stuff the photos in her bag. She flopped back onto the couch, too lazy to put any clothes back on. The scent of the two of them mixed together in the muggy air of the office. She'd already come this far, Emmy figured, so she moved from her side of the couch to squeeze next to, and on top of, the professor. Nuzzling her face into his neck, she blinked her eyes shut. She didn't care anymore; she'd face the repercussions in the morning. The girl laid with him, pretending they were actually lovers. The clock on the wall flashed <em>4:09,</em> but Emmy ignored it in favor of hoping time had stood still and that this moment would never end.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Repercussions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The morning after.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Desmond groggily blinked the sleep out of his eyes, his back sore from sleeping awkwardly on the office couch. It was already almost midday. It was a Saturday, so he didn't have anywhere to be, but the dry heat of the English summer woke him up early regardless. This office tended to get stuffy in the warmer months, and it didn't help that a blanket had been laid over him. Emmy sleeping on his chest also added heat to the already...<br/><br/><em>Wait. What?</em>  Desmond's eyes snapped wide open as he realized the teen was cuddling him in her sleep, sharing the blanket with him. The young professor scrambled up into a seated position, worming out from under Emmy and the blanket. <em>No... Oh </em>god<em> no...</em> His blood ran cold as he examined the scene before him. His dick was out of his pants, and Emmy was laying next to him, dozing happily. <em>What have I </em>done?<br/><br/>"G'morning." A voice came from below, and Desmond looked to see a sleepy Emmy lazily smiling up at him. The girl yawned and snuggled closer as she shut her eyes again.<br/><br/>"<em>Emmy!</em> What happened last night?" The professor hissed quietly, hoping beyond hope nobody would come into the office. He quickly shoved his manhood back into his pants. She responded without opening her eyes.<br/><br/>"You got hard in your sleep. I took care of it. You're welcome." Emmy squinted up at him. "Can we talk about this later? I wanna sleep some more..." Desmond stayed silent before laughing nervously.<br/><br/>"I get it, this is a joke. I played pranks when I was your age too, albeit not like this." Emmy grumbled in response and pushed herself up off the couch. Desmond took in a sharp breath when he realized she was completely naked. The girl dug around in her bag for the photos she took and walked back to the professor, shoving the photos in his face.<br/><br/>"Look. I have proof." Emmy stated matter-of-factly. The blood rushed from Desmond's face as he registered the contents of the photos. As he reached for them, Emmy yanked her hand back. "Uh-uhn. These are <em>mine.</em>"<br/><br/>"Emmy, please... Y-You know what will happen if someone sees those, right!?" Desmond stammered.<br/><br/>"I know exactly what will happen. I'm not stupid." The girl sneered as she stuffed the photos back into her bag. "That's why from now on, you're gonna listen to <em>me,</em> or these pictures could 'accidentally' find their way to the Dean's desk." The light faded from Desmond's eyes as he considered the situation. Even though he was taller than her, he didn't want to resort to force to take the photographs. Besides, the teenager in front of him knew martial arts, and he doubted she'd shy away from using them. On the other hand, the professor had no doubt about the kinds of acts she'd blackmail him into doing. His options were to either become known to the world as a child predator, or become one in secret. Which was worth more, his reputation and occupation, or his morality?<br/><br/>".....Fine." Desmond quietly mouthed his reply.<br/><br/>"Hmm?" Emmy mockingly put a hand to her ear.<br/><br/>"<em>Fine.</em> I'll... do what you want." Desmond enunciated, voice shaking.<br/><br/>"...Good boy." The girl's tone and gaze softened. She sat back on the couch. "My first order is that you lay back down so I can get some more rest. I didn't get much sleep last night, you know?" Emmy winked at him. Resigned to his fate, Desmond sighed and laid back down, stretching out across the entire length of the couch. Emmy, still nude, laid stomach-to-stomach onto the professor and stretched the blanket over the two of them once more. She tugged on his sleeve to pull his hand up to her head. He got the hint and began rubbing her head until she fell back asleep. Desmond laid still, awake and conscious of the puffs of her breath ghosting onto his neck.<br/><br/><em>What am I supposed to do...?</em></p><hr/><p>Twenty minutes, forty minutes, sixty minutes passed, leaving Desmond alone with his thoughts as Emmy dozed on his chest. There had to be a way to get out of this... He couldn't tell any of the university staff; it would only implicate him for what he'd already done to her, albeit unconsciously. She didn't have parents he could turn to; apparently she had an... uncle, was it? Although, the man didn't seem to be very present in her life, let alone accessible. Maybe he could contact Gressenheller Prep's headmistress, but...<br/><br/>Desmond looked down at the girl. He didn't want to ruin her future by implicating her in something so taboo. The way she smiled in her sleep struck him as tragic. How troubled must this girl be that simply showing her a bit of kindness made her so happy? When she came to see him the previous day, all traces of the surly delinquent from their first meeting had vanished.<br/><br/>Desmond rubbed Emmy's head again, making her hum and turn a bit in her sleep, leaning into his touch. All of her hair had long come undone from her usual ponytail, leaving her chocolatey locks spilling down and framing her face. With her eyes closed, it was easy to see how long her eyelashes were. Her lips that so often spouted sardonic jokes were silenced by her sleep, accentuating their adorable shape and cherry hue. The professor hated to admit it to himself, but she truly was a cute, no, <em>beautiful</em> girl. <br/><br/>The scenes depicted in Emmy's photographs intrusively flashed in Desmond's mind. Her expressions, her poses, her body... He gulped, suddenly acutely aware of both the naked teen cuddling him and how long it'd been since he'd been so close to another person. She was so warm, and he could feel every little twitch in her sleep on top of him.<br/><br/><em>No!</em> Desmond tried to shake some sense  back into his train of thought. <em>She's a child, she's a child, she's a </em>child!, his rational side screamed internally, but the rest of him couldn't help honing in on the sweet little hums and moans she made in her sleep, wondering what she sounded like while she took those incriminating photos.</p><hr/><p>The girl on top of him finally woke up a couple hours later. Emmy yawned and moved to kiss him on the cheek, making Desmond shudder in quiet pleasure. He'd been so absorbed in his fantasi<strong><em>—</em></strong>no, <em>thoughts</em><strong><em>—</em></strong> that he hadn't noticed her wake up. It was a new reaction for Emmy; all the other times she tried to kiss him, the man would grimace or turn away, but this time, she could feel him shiver and twitch under her.<br/><br/>"Good morning again." Emmy hummed. "Why're you so fidgety?" She asked. Desmond's face drained of its color as he realized she noticed his reaction.<br/><br/>"W-Why do you think?" Desmond stammered, trying to keep his grip on his morality. He didn't like the feeling of her sweet little kiss on his cheek, not at all!<br/><br/>"You're so defensive... Almost <em>too</em> defensive." Emmy observed as she stretched her arms behind her head.<br/><br/>"Look at the circumstance you've forced me into! I'm reacting in a completely reasonable manner!" The professor countered. Emmy stopped to think for a moment. He had a point, but something still seemed...off? Either he was being far too dramatic, or he was hiding something. She had another idea. <em>Man, I've been on a roll with these ideas lately. Maybe I really</em> am<em> smart, just like he said!</em><br/><br/>"Okay. I propose an experiment, a <em>scientific</em> experiment. You like those, right? 'Cause you're a teacher." Emmy scooted lower down on his body until she was face-to-face with his crotch. Knowing he wasn't in a position to struggle, she unzipped his pants again and began to repeat the events of the night before. This time it was soft, so she had to work it out of his clothing before she could begin.<br/><br/>"What are you<strong><em>—</em></strong>!?" Before he could finish speaking, he gasped at the feeling of being plunged into Emmy's soft, wet mouth. She tried to repeat every movement that made him squirm in his sleep the night before, practically giving him hickies on all of his sweet spots. Desmond struggled to hide how good it felt. It had been a <em>long</em> time since he'd felt anything like this. As soon as he started throbbing at the sensation of pressure building up in his core, the girl pulled her mouth off of him to speak.<br/><br/>"You got hard really easily. So, that means you do like this, don't you?" Emmy crossed her arms, smirking.<br/><br/>"I-It's reflexogenic... The human body is made to react to stimuli such as... <em>that...</em>" Desmond tried to speak with confidence, but couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with the girl in front of him. She sniffed in mild annoyance.<br/><br/>"I thought you'd say something like that, so here's your chance. I stopped. If you can look me in the eyes and will it away, I'll believe that you really don't want to be with me like this." Emmy sat on the arm of the couch, feet on the cushion, watching and waiting. Desmond scoffed. This would be no challenge at all. After all, he wasn't a child predator. He knew he could confidently stare at Emmy naked in front of him and not feel anything.<br/><br/>"All right." Desmond was relieved at this chance to make everything go away for good. There was no way he wouldn't be able to will his erection back down. So what if her little mouth had been deliciously slick and warm? So what if her big brown eyes, curtained by long, dark eyelashes, could nearly hypnotize him? So what if her lithe body and developing breasts looked ever so smooth and soft? So what if he was a bit older and she was a bit younger? So what if he really did want more? Wait... What was he <em>thinking?</em> He looked down. Much to his horror, nothing had changed.<br/><br/>"...It's been almost ten minutes." Emmy announced. Desmond checked the clock in disbelief, but the girl was right. "Could this," She tapped the head of his dick, making him tremble, "be a love confession?" Her cheeks became rosy. "Is that why you invited me to your office in the first place, at the park?"<br/><br/>"No! It wasn't like that at first..." Emmy's ears perked up.<br/><br/>"'At first', huh? So what's it like now?" Desmond stared at the floor, face hot with shame at his Freudian slip.<br/><br/>"L-Look, I'm sure you'll make some man very happy some day..." He began to deflect.<br/><br/>"Yeah! I'll make <em>you</em> happy, Professor!" The man exhaled through gritted teeth. This girl was so stubborn, and unfortunately she was succeeding at wearing him down. Desmond didn't want to ruin her life, but...<br/><br/><em>I already did.</em><br/><br/>Wordlessly, he started moving towards Emmy still not making eye contact with her. The eyes of the girl in question started to grow, and she inched forward to meet him. He paused to think of the words before slowly looking up at her.<br/><br/>"This is... <em>truly</em> what you want?" Emmy nodded enthusiastically. His cock twitched at the sight. "...All right." The increasingly leaky dam holding back his subconscious desire in his mind finally burst at her confirmation.<br/><br/>Out of the blue, Desmond grabbed her wrists and yanked her towards him, aiming his mouth towards hers. He licked and nipped at her lips until she opened up, then greedily shoved his tongue inside. The professor ignored his pupil's panicked "Mm?"s and entangled his fingers with hers, pushing her down onto the couch. His eyes shut while his tongue explored every inch of her mouth, almost triggering her gag reflex. He could taste himself in her mouth, and it made him kiss her harder. Desmond breathed raggedly through his nose, blasting warm air onto Emmy's cheeks. It had been so long, and the little girl in front of him was so gorgeous and felt so <em>good</em> that he couldn't hold himself back. He needed more, more, <em>more!</em><br/><br/>Desmond broke apart for a second so they could both gasp for air and looked at the girl's expression. She looked like a deer in headlights, terrified. Tears ran down the sides of her trembling, blotched red face. He let go of her hands. A sobering wave of guilt swept over him. He'd made her cry, yet again.<br/><br/>"I-I'm so sorry, Emmy," Desmond moved down again to breathe into her ear, "I was too rough, wasn't I? I apologize." He pecked her earlobe before moving back to kiss up the tears rolling down her face. "We'll go at your pace, all right? I'm terribly sorry." Emmy wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him down to nuzzle into the crook of his neck.<br/><br/>"Just... gimmie a sec." Emmy said, muffled under his body. "Last night was my first time, so I... I'm still not..." She sniffled a bit.<br/><br/>"I understand. Take as long as you need." He responded softly. That she did. Emmy slowed her breathing and relaxed herself, comforted by the warm weight of the professor on top of her and the sweet scent of his cologne. She wasn't prepared for his sudden burst of eagerness, but as she stopped to get her bearings, she calmed back down. This was the person Emmy wanted with her entire heart, her entire soul, and she trusted that he wouldn't do anything to purposely hurt her.<br/><br/>"Okay... I'm ready. For real this time." Emmy moved to look at him again. "You can go, um, fast again... If you want to..." She said with a shiver. Desmond brushed away the stray hairs stuck to her damp face.<br/><br/>"No. I promised we'd go at <em>your</em> pace." He said mournfully. "Like I should have done from the start." Emmy smiled shyly at him.<br/><br/>"Lead the way. You're the professor here, so... Teach me." The girl pulled her arms from his neck and laid them at her sides, waiting expectantly.<br/><br/>"Pfft. You know I'm not <em>that</em> kind of professor..." Desmond half-smiled as he leaned down closer to her face again. "The first step would be kissing, correct? I didn't provide you with a very good example before." He winced a bit in shame. "You'll want to go nice and slow, savor every second..." Following his own directions, Desmond tilted his head and pressed his lips to hers. Emmy melted into the kiss and opened her lips just enough for their tongues to meet. They gently explored each others mouths, both of their breaths beginning to hitch. She started moaning quietly, sending jolts of electricity up the professor's spine. Breaking apart again, Desmond peppered her cheeks with kisses as he rubbed her head. Emmy licked the drool off her lips.<br/><br/>"You taste yummy, Professor." Emmy giggled.<br/><br/>"You too. I could do this all day." Desmond flushed at the words coming out of his own mouth. "But I know you want more. I know what a naughty girl you are," he breathed into her ear again. Emmy shivered, her skin tingling from both the physical sensation and the meaning of his words.<br/><br/>"Then punish me." Emmy dared, her voice quivering the slightest bit.<br/><br/>"I don't think it'd make any difference. I know you're too far gone." Desmond moved a hand toward her left breast. "You'd only enjoy any punishment I gave you." He groped her chest before sloppily sucking it, making her yelp. "How big are these?" He whispered.<br/><br/>"A-cups..." Emmy whispered even softer in response. His question made her feel uncharacteristically self-conscious. The girl had somewhat of a complex, considering she had the flattest chest out of everyone her friend group. "Sorry they're small..." Desmond shook his head.<br/><br/>"No, they're just right." He pressed his face into the large gap between them. "So cute. They fit in my mouth <em>perfectly.</em>" The man went back to alternating between sucking on each of her tiny breasts while groping both of them. Emmy whimpered at the sensation of his tongue flicking over her nipples. Even when she'd touch herself alone, she'd never tried to play with or do anything with her boobs. It was like the heat from his mouth was being transferred into her body, making her feel hot and tingly all over.<br/><br/>"I'm glad you don't... think I'm ugly..." Emmy whispered, "...or hate me..." Her eyes began to water again, her tears a mixture of happiness and sadness. Desmond stopped and faced her again, stroking the tears off her cheeks.<br/><br/>"Oh, oh oh oh... Of course not, Darling." Emmy's heart skipped a beat at the nickname "What did I ever do to give you that idea?" Desmond asked, genuine remorse in his auburn eyes. Emmy sniffled before answering.<br/><br/>"You..." The girl struggled to enunciate her words with the lump in her throat. "You wouldn't look at me... And kept moving away when I..." The rest of her sentence became garbled with sadness. Desmond wormed his arms under her to hug her properly.<br/><br/>"That's because we shouldn't be doing this... <em>I</em> shouldn't be doing this, or feeling this way..." Desmond kissed her forehead. "Not only do we have ten years dividing us, but you're only fifteen." He looked down into her eyes. "But... that doesn't change my feelings for you." Emmy looked up at him, her vision blurry with tears. The man moved closer to her ear again and with a bit of a smile in his voice murmured, "You should've seen how beautiful you looked while you were asleep. That face was what finally wore me down." He whispered as quietly as he could into her ear. "I... love you, Emmy."<br/><br/>Emmy's quivering lips broke out into open sobbing at his words. She hugged him so tight, Desmond was a bit concerned he'd bruise the following day. This man was making her emotionally vulnerable enough to shed all the tears she held back for years in just a few short weeks. The professor was the only important person she had in her life, and as the days passed, she began to feel that he was the only one she needed. Emmy let go of him to look him in the eyes.<br/><br/>"Ki... Kiss...?" The girl begged. Desmond smiled and gave her a nod before repeating his "lesson" from earlier. Emmy still wasn't the best at reciprocating, but her clumsy, inexperienced kisses added to her charm. They made out for a while until Emmy suddenly stopped, her face serious. "I still wanna... do it." Desmond frowned a little.<br/><br/>"Are you positively sure?" Emmy nodded stubbornly. "All right, hold on." Desmond got up to go over to his desk, almost making the girl regret speaking up as she lamented the loss of his weight and heat on top of her. The professor fiddled around before finding a small vial and bringing it back over to the couch.<br/><br/>"You're still new to this, so I want to make sure nothing hurts." Desmond squeezed lube over his fingers until they were completely coated before slowly rubbing her sex. Emmy squeaked at the feeling. "Are you all right!?"<br/><br/>"Yeah," Emmy giggled shyly, "it was just chilly." Desmond smiled back and continued touching her. She barely had the beginnings of dark pubic hair, soft to the touch. Using two fingers, he spread her open to take a peek. It was a beautifully pink hue, dripping with enthusiasm and...<br/><br/>"Did I... cum inside you last night?" Desmond recoiled in shame at the sight before him. Thick, white liquid oozed out of her onto his hand and the couch below. Emmy nodded dreamily.<br/><br/>"It was <em>so</em> hot..." Emmy sighed blissfully, remembering how erotic the entire experience had been.<br/><br/>"I'm sorry." Desmond grimaced.<br/><br/>"What for? I wanted it." Emmy grinned.<br/><br/>"I'm the adult here. I'm supposed to be the responsible one." Desmond sighed. "I should be giving you what you <em>need,</em> not what you <em>want.</em>"<br/><br/>"Aw, lighten up! I'm on the pill, anyway." Emmy was starting to get over her crying spell and getting back to her old animated self. "Keep going!" She bent her knees and spread her legs as far as she could, encouraging him to continue. Desmond sighed again before gingerly sliding his middle finger inside and curling it repeatedly into her g-spot. Emmy quivered at the sensation; even though it was only his finger, it felt so good. Plus, she didn't have to do any of the work!<br/><br/>"More... <em>Mmgh!</em> Gimmie more..." Emmy rolled her hips into his touch, but it wasn't enough.<br/><br/>"So demanding..." Desmond chuckled. "But you need to be specific. More what?" He pulled his finger out with a wet <em>pop.</em><br/><br/>"I want..." Emmy panted, "your big, fat dick..." She spread herself open with her slender fingers. "In my tight little grade-schooler pussy..." Desmond grimaced.<br/><br/>"That's, um, a bit <em>too</em> specific." He felt his face get hot at the mention of her age.<br/><br/>"It's true, though!" The girl laughed. "Don't try to be a hero. I know how you <em>really</em> feel." She motioned down at his exposed cock, bobbing and dripping with precum.<br/><br/>"Um..."<br/><br/>"Don't forget the pictures~!" Emmy said in a singsong voice. Desmond sighed again. "And you don't even need a condom 'cause you already came inside!" Desmond nodded shamefully before grabbing the container again. He was so sensitive, just rubbing the lube on himself was making him tremble.<br/><br/>Silently, Desmond aimed into her and ever-so slowly pushed himself inside. With every inch, Emmy let her mouth open wider, breathing deeply and moaning without sound. Finally, he was in to the hilt, his balls gently resting on her labia. Desmond stayed inside her so both he and the girl below him could adjust to the sensation.<br/><br/>It had been years since Desmond had felt anything like this, anything besides his own hand. Even with the lube, Emmy was so little, so tight and slick and <em>hot...</em> The professor was able to hold himself back, but <em>god</em> did he want to ram into her as hard and fast as he could.<br/><br/>"Oh, Emmy... You're so <em>tight.</em>" Desmond grunted.<br/><br/>"Ah, sorry..." Emmy apologized.<br/><br/>"No... It's a good thing." He could feel himself trembling with the effort of staying still. "M-May I move now...?" Emmy nodded.<br/><br/>"Yeah, but you gotta kiss me while you do it." She wrapped her arms around his neck.<br/><br/>"Of course, Darling." He chuckled as he moved in to kiss her. The professor agonizingly slowly drew himself out of her before slamming back in, muffling both of their moans between their lips. If the man's mouth wasn't in the way, Emmy would've screamed at the force of her sweet spot getting rammed. This position made it easy for his cock to dig <em>deep</em> into her. Her tummy felt so full... Full of this older man whom she loved. She curled her legs around his to lock him in place. Desmond tried to build up to a comfortable pace, fast enough to feel that delicious friction while slow enough to not hurt Emmy and not make himself climax in mere minutes.<br/><br/>"'S way better, <em>ngh,</em> when you're awake!" Emmy moaned when they broke apart for air. Feeling all of the professor's intentional movements, hearing him talk, feeling him on top of her... Everything blew last night out of the water. She had wanted to kiss and feel him so badly, and now she finally could! <em>This</em> was her true first time, and while it didn't go as she originally planned, she felt like she was in heaven all the same.<br/><br/>Desmond started to speed up, the feeling of his shirt rubbing against her bare skin making Emmy's nipples even harder. She kissed as deeply as she could, even though it was getting difficult to breathe and she felt like she was about to choke on his tongue in her mouth. She felt the man convulse like he had inside her last night, so she tightened her legs around him. Emmy wanted all of that white-hot love for herself, nobody else.<br/><br/>Emmy let go of one hand, reaching down to rub her clit before Desmond noticed. He brushed her hand aside and stroked it with his fingers instead, making her spasm wildly.<br/><br/>"Ahm... Mnghm... <em>Mmnaah!</em>" With the addition of her clit being stimulated along with the sensitive bundle of nerves inside her, it wasn't long before Emmy came, grabbing Desmond as hard as she could with her arms, legs, and pussy.<br/><br/>The man followed after her, the sounds of the sweet little girl under him driving him over the edge. Desmond let out a guttural moan as he pumped his cum inside her for the second time in the past twenty-four hours. As he pulled out, it all spilled out of her. He looked down at her with glazed eyes. She looked completely debauched, her skin blotched red and covered in sweat, giggling quietly between pants as semen continued pooling out of her.<br/><br/><em>She's so cute...</em> Desmond grabbed her arms and lifted her up before pulling the both of them backwards on the couch so she could lay on his chest again. <em>And she's all mine...</em><br/><br/>"Pwofesser..." Emmy looked at him, equally dazed.<br/><br/>"Yes?"<br/><br/>"...I wuv you." Desmond smiled and started petting her head.<br/><br/>"I love you too, Darling." Emmy sighed in pleasure as she fell asleep to the feeling of his hand on her head and his heartbeat below her.</p>
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  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
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        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30487389">Feels Good, Right?</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Domokoru/pseuds/Domokoru">Domokoru</a>
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